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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411919">Sulk and sleep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticlivi/pseuds/chaoticlivi'>chaoticlivi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Other, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:30:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticlivi/pseuds/chaoticlivi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Extremely short thing I wrote to grapple with my feelings about Crowley falling back asleep in October.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sulk and sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time he wakes, there’s an angel sitting on the edge of his bed.</p><p>“Ah, you know, I’m a little afraid of opening this particular can of hornets–”</p><p>“Worms.”</p><p>“Hardly relevant here. In any case, you were the one who suggested…leaving.” Aziraphale gestures vaguely toward something beyond the ceiling. “Just us two.” He pauses, then carries on when there’s no response. “But here, you could have, um, bubbled with me–”</p><p>“Ugghhffff.”</p><p>“I know, I know. The point is we could have done exactly that, but here on Earth. And here you are, sleeping half a year away.”</p><p>“S’boring. Like the <em>fourteenth century</em>. Ugh.” Crowley gives a shiver, but it probably isn’t a very convincing one.</p><p>“I’m quite sure there’s a new political cataclysm every single day.”</p><p>“I hate politics.”</p><p>“You <em>love</em> to hate politics.”</p><p>“Some of my best work, in the old days.”</p><p>“See? I can’t see how that qualifies as boring.”</p><p>“Well, there’s nothing to do. All I can do is spectate.”</p><p>“Really? When half of it is fed by the Twit Machine which, I’m told, you can easily access via your telephone?”</p><p>Crowley snorts into his pillow.</p><p>“You could go out driving alone. That would be safe even if you were human, provided you stayed in your car.”</p><p>“Might be suspicious. Don’t have assignments as such, nothing to buy. Don’t need exercise. They’d just stop me for driving around looking shady.”</p><p>“I cannot think of one single time throughout six thousand years on this planet that you ever worried about ‘looking shady.’ Or about police, or any iteration thereof.”</p><p>“It would be a bad influence. People can’t think it’s okay. They’ll get ideas.”</p><p>“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem at all if you conduct yourself responsibly. They can’t know you’re a demon out for a joy ride, all they’ll see is a responsible citizen wearing a mask, out to go help his…elderly mother, perhaps.”</p><p>“Who’s the elderly mother? You?”</p><p>Aziraphale huffs. “Fine. Sleep for a century. I don’t know why I bother.” He shuffles, getting ready to push off the luxurious bed.</p><p>“Angel, come on. Wait.” Crowley groans as he pushes himself up to sit. “You said ‘no.’”</p><p>“And how was I to know you wouldn’t remind me how many ways we have of getting around it?”</p><p>Crowley glowers. “I <em>can</em> take no for an answer, you know.”</p><p>“You also knew,” Aziraphale presses onward, “that there are sensible ways to mix households. I told you about them. They’re not right for everyone, but we’re one of the groups it would be safe for.”</p><p>“Oh, really? Did they set guidelines for supernatural entities?”</p><p>“<em>Crowley</em>.”</p><p>Crowley rolls his eyes and flops back on his bed.</p><p>“Fine. It’s depressing, is what it is. I don’t want to be awake for it at all. Even if I’m supposedly having a good time! I don’t want to know what’s happening until it’s all over.”</p><p>Aziraphale is quiet.</p><p>“They’re doing it to themselves,” Crowley says.</p><p>“You’ve always taken advantage of that.”</p><p>“Sure, when there was a bit of unpredictability in the mix. When it was a challenge from me, and not just. Inherent rottenness.”</p><p>“When there was a chance they wouldn’t fall for your wiles.”</p><p>“Not exactly, but…mm, yeah, kind of.”</p><p>“They aren’t all like that. Some of them have been very good this whole time. I daresay it would make you sick how good some of them have been,” Aziraphale adds hopefully.</p><p>“Not enough, though. Listen. Knowing they’re mortal in the first place, it’s one thing watching people get picked off by forces beyond their control. But watching them sort of…destroy themselves, <em>each other</em>, from the inside out, I can’t stand it. It’s a special kind of Hell. There’s no place for me. Existentially purposeless, I am.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say that. You could be out making it so much worse.”</p><p>“…I don’t want it to be worse,” Crowley admits.</p><p>“And there it is.” Aziraphale chuckles.</p><p>“Don’t you dare.”</p><p>“Come with me. You can sulk and sleep all you want, but it’s perfectly within the rules for you to do it in the shop.”</p><p>“I, uh– wait, what’s that?”</p><p>He knows exactly what they are: a pair of fabric masks. One is tartan on both sides. One is tartan on the inside only. The angel knows exactly what he’s doing.</p><p>“I sewed them myself!”</p><p>“You didn’t. We can miracle those.”</p><p>“I did! Look, they match.”</p><p>“Ugh. You’re lucky I– er, sure, fine, whatever, let’s make it quick.”</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“Nothing. Nothing, let’s go.”</p>
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